Sincere To A Fault

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I Write In Riddles But What I’m Really Saying Is I Am A Broken Human Being

I’ve been doing so much worse than anyone knows.

I’ve been afraid to talk about it. I’m afraid of scaring people away. I’m afraid the people I would choose to tell wouldn’t care, and I’m not sure I could bear that.

I am afraid.

But I am here.

Over many years (and a combination of medical attention, a recovery program, and therapy), I’ve come to identify the worst triggers for my mental health. In the past several years, there have been too many; it’s like an avalanche I can’t outrun.

I have a lot of ugly traits. I expect too much. I hold on to things I’ve desperately tried to let go. I feel like my formative years set me up to question everyone and everything; everything feels temporary, as though it could all disappear in an instant (and has more than once). I too often seek approval. I find it easier to connect with strangers than people I know; so many of the people I’ve known have grown tired of me and removed themselves from my life. I try to be there for others when I’m not even taking care of myself.

The list is long. Far longer than what is here.

I try too hard.

I try way too f*cking hard.

That’s not to say I don’t work at improving myself, I work at it all the time (as someone with chronic illness, anxiety, and depression, to say that sometimes it’s hard would be a profound understatement), but, ultimately, through example after example, life has proven I’m an unwanted daughter/friend/writer/presence.

I try way too f*cking hard.

I have several identified triggers, some far worse than others. Being unwanted. Being ignored. Being unfriended out of the blue for seemingly no reason (the tip of the iceberg of my tenuous relationship with social media). Seeing I’m irrelevant. Any time communication with my parents comes up.

There are more, but those are the heavy hitters.

The worst of my anxiety and deep restlessness commences at sundown every Friday and Saturday night. Like clockwork. As soon as it starts getting dark I feel like I need to be DOING something. Sometimes it’s so strong, I drive to the store just to be OUT.

For many years my life was not so great and I LIVED for Friday and Saturday nights. Nearly every Friday and Saturday night I’d go dancing, often by myself. Around sundown I would be getting ready and the night was full of anticipation and electricity.

Despite all my efforts, sometimes I feel I’m hardwired to struggle. That’s depressing all by itself.

Juxtaposing this is my gratitude for all I have and, please believe me, I am entirely grateful. I am so grateful for my partner, dog, people who care, a place to live (and eat and sleep), and numerous other things. I am deeply fortunate.

I hate that I keep waffling on writing. I still don’t know what I’m doing and I’m seemingly destined to keep doing it.

I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

I want to be good at everything. I used to be good at some things. Now I’m good at no things.

I seek approval and interaction too much.

I want everyone to like me no matter how improbable.

I try way too f*cking hard.

I originally started writing to connect with people over games and that morphed into wanting to connect over everything. Without connecting, it felt empty and pointless. Perhaps I don’t have anything of value to add to the cosmic conversation.

Perhaps I don’t have anything worth saying.

I try too hard to please. I’m nearly always the one trying to make amends. I’m always the one trying, desperately, to make things right. Growing up, things were fine until they explosively weren’t, then I was doing damage control even if I’d had nothing to do with the situation. I tried so hard, to varying levels of success.

I’ve always tried too f*cking hard.

I have lost so many friends even though I’ve tried to be a good friend. It’s happened too many times for me to believe it is anything other than me and me alone that is the problem. I have been unfriended by people I was only ever nice to. I have asked why and been ignored. Those situations are impossibly difficult and haunt me.

Heavily.

I’m broken and flawed and doing so much worse than I’ve let on. I’m no danger to myself, but I’m about as low as I can be. Each day is a struggle. I feel isolated. I genuinely feel like no one cares and that everyone hates me. Statistically I know those things are improbable…and yet.

I feel I’ve said too much yet not managed to illustrate how bad things are. My depression and anxiety have been progressively worse. I feel more and more isolated. I know my brain is being mean to me, but it is exhausting to manually remind myself of that.

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I related HARD to this post, as I can say a lot of the same things about myself — and with it having being a particularly trying week mental health-wise, it’s… I don’t know if I want to say “comforting” because you’re clearly suffering, but… perhaps “reassuring” to know other people understand the struggle.

I don’t have much to add, save for saying that you’ve done a great job still being here. Depression, anxiety and just the state of the trash fire that is today’s world make things a daily struggle. But we keep on surviving. Somehow.

Aw, Pete, I’m so sorry. And I completely understand what you mean. I hate that other people struggle, but it’s almost heartening to know we’re not alone. If that makes sense. My brain is borked.

Thank you for being so supportive and kind. I’ve always enjoyed what you have to say and our interactions. And boy, you’re not kidding. I have to even be careful how much news I consume because it is devastating.

I am glad we both keep fighting the good fight and remain here (in the grander sense). Super hug. <3

You matter to so many people; most of them, like myself, don’t deserve the always kind and attentive friendship you have so openly given at your own expense. You give it all you can and more and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to reciprocate at all.

I’ve failed at being your friend, I miss our conversations immensely, it’s been entirely my fault we haven’t spoken and I want that to change. I’m poor at words when I’m at my best so I’ll leave it to a better wordsmith than I:

A Faithful Friend by Patricia Grantham

How many of you can find a faithful friend?

That will stick close by you until the very end

When trouble comes they will never forsake

Always ready to give more than they will take

A friend like that is so very hard to find

One you can count on to talk and unwind

Someone that’s concerned about how you feel

Cares for you deeply with a love that’s real

A friend when in need is a friend indeed

Show yourself friendly by sowing the seed

How sweet are the words when spoken between friends

Just like a balm that heals or a needle that mends

A friend that sticks closer than any brother

Very trustworthy and not the same as another

You can count on them to answer when you call

There to help you when your backs against the wall

That’s what you have been to me and I’m sorry I haven’t been in return. You deserve better than that and I’m here if you want to talk.

I always struggle with commenting on very personal posts of people I follow online. I know you through this medium and so, don’t really know you but I enjoy reading your pieces and relate to them often (including this one). I can’t tell you it will be allright but, I can say I hope you have better days ahead of you.

You may struggle with commenting on them, but it doesn’t read that way at all. I have always appreciated what you have to say and our interactions, and for that I say thank you. I’m sorry you relate to any of this, and I hope things improve for both of us. I truly do. <3

Finding out what is a trigger, being able to talk about it at all, sharing with others, even knowing when our brains are just being mean even when it’s hard to accept that, all show strength and moving forward. I believe in you and will be here to support you how I can, just as you gave me support when I had issues not long ago and I am still thankful for that.

Hello, I’m sorry mental health is making you feel bad. I saw your post from a few weeks ago called “unsure why I bother”, about how at the time, you felt like your work didn’t matter, evidenced by people not interacting with the work or you as much as you wanted. I know I’m one of those people who doesn’t comment anything, ever, so I wanted to let you know that’s just how I am with everything. I have subscriptions to Hulu, Netflix, and Amazon Prime, I look up movie suggestions, and I can count on one hand the number of shows I’ve watched in the past few months. In that previous post you said no one would engage with your writing, so I’m letting you know that I just don’t engage with anything, so if I’m not “engaging” with your posts it has nothing to do with you. I’ve been trying to find the right way to say this for quite some time and even thought about deleting the whole comment, but if I did that it might reinforce those negative thoughts. Hope you get better and that negative voice in your head learns to shut up.